


Loaned Away

by stan_of_many



Category: White Collar (TV 2009)
Genre: Abuse, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Caring Peter Burke, Comfort, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Sweet, handler abuse, hard day, i love Peter and Neal, i mean about as overt as the show, peter being sweet and caring for his CI, which is pretty clear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 16:40:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29263683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stan_of_many/pseuds/stan_of_many
Summary: “Peter frowned slightly, realizing that Neal hadn’t spoken since Ruiz had practically dragged him in by his collar. Usually he’d be making about five different excuses for why nothing could possibly ever be his fault and cheekily denying every accusation. As it was, he stood silent.”Neal gets loaned to Organized Crime for the day and Peter shows how to really care for a CI when he sees the bruises.
Relationships: Peter Burke & Neal Caffrey
Comments: 10
Kudos: 120





	Loaned Away

**Author's Note:**

> Just an excuse for some shameless h/c and Peter being caring and sweet and fatherly.
> 
> Ruiz wasn’t shown to be that awful in the show but it’s nicer to use a real character rather than make an OC. Also I know that it’s pretty unrealistic for an agent to be that overtly abusive and I want to be clear with the fact that I firmly believe that a large majority of law enforcement are more in the Peter Burke area. I really just needed an excuse for some sweet moments with our guys.

“Peter, there’s no reason why Ruiz can’t use Caffrey for the day.” Hughes’ tone was maddeningly matter of fact as Peter paced in front of the ASAC’s desk. 

“Reese, Ruiz—“ 

“—I know you don’t like him Peter, but he’s good at what he does and if he wants to use Caffrey’s expertise for a day I can’t stop him.” Hughes bent over the paperwork on his desk, waving his hand in a clear dismissal. 

Neal saw the clench of Peter’s jaw as the agent left his superior’s office and suppressed a sigh, standing up from his desk before Peter had a chance to summon him with the double finger point. He kept his cocky swagger as he walked to Peter’s office, giving Ruiz a grin as he passed the smirking agent. 

Peter motioned for him to close the door and tapped his desk with a pen for a few moments, reluctant to speak. Finally he looked up,

“Neal—“

“I’m being loaned to Ruiz today.” 

Peter looked only vaguely startled at Neal’s words, shaking his head and not bothering to ask how the CI knew.

“Yeah. I’m sorry, I couldn’t—“

“Peter, it’s fine.” Neal grinned, “I’ll survive. I’ve charmed much worse people than Ruiz.” 

Peter sighed, “it’s probably best if you don’t try to charm him, Neal.”

“You’re right, some people just aren’t worth it.” 

“Neal—“ Peter’s tone was warning and Neal held his hands up in mock surrender,

“Alright, alright, I’ll behave.” He grinned again and Peter resisted the urge to shake his CI,

“I’m asking you for your own sake Caffrey, Ruiz won’t appreciate—“

“Peter.” Neal’s tone was finally serious, “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry. It’s only for a day.” He met Peter’s gaze for a few moments, finally offering up a smaller smile as the agent nodded. 

“Alright.” Peter jerked his head, “well you’d better go, he’s waiting.” 

He let out a long breath as he watched Neal swan out of his office, charming and confident as always, flipping his fedora onto his head as he followed Ruiz out of the office. Ignoring the vague unease that he knew would sit in the back of his mind until Neal got back, he leaned over his paperwork. 

***

Ruiz was supposed to be back with Neal by 5 but it was only 4:15 when Peter heard a commotion downstairs. He stood up and went to the door of his office to see Neal being hearded roughly up the stairs, hands cuffed behind his back, almost tripping as he was pushed by a red-faced and furious Agent Ruiz. 

“Burke!” Ruiz looked almost as though steam were about to come out of his ears. He grabbed Neal’s collar as they reached the top and shoved him into Peter’s office, following the CI and not bothering to close the door. Neal’s expression was hard and stony and there was a set to his jaw that Peter didn’t like, but in true Neal fashion Peter couldn’t tell if the CI was angry, scared, annoyed, or something else entirely. “Here’s your CI.” Ruiz hissed, “I bet he’s feeling pretty grateful right now that you’re gullible enough to be his handler because if it were up to me he’d be in prison.” His voice had gotten louder and most of the bullpen was looking up as the Organized Crime agent turned and stomped out, yelling over his shoulder “If you were smart Burke you’d put him back!” 

Peter stepped briefly out of the office to give a threatening stare to the bullpen where the agents hastily scrambled back to work before closing his office door and going over to the window to figure out how to deal with his CI. 

Knowing Neal, he likely hadn’t helped much once Ruiz got angry, he really didn’t know when to shut his mouth most of the time, but with his experience working with the agent from Organized Crime, Peter wasn’t going to blame whatever happened on the CI, at least until he had more information. 

He frowned slightly, realizing that Neal hadn’t spoken since he’d been practically dragged in by his collar. Usually he’d be making about five different excuses for why nothing could possibly ever be his fault and cheekily denying every accusation. As it was, he stood silent. Peter drew in a breath and then let it out again slowly, 

“What happened?”

“Nothing.” The retort was surly but Peter was unfazed,

“Obviously something happened, Neal.”

Neal didn’t answer and Peter turned to glare him down. Neal stood stiffly, his hands behind his back, Ruiz hadn’t bothered to unlock the handcuffs before making his dramatic exit. 

Peter looked at Neal sharply, startled with the realization that the con hadn’t taken the golden opportunity to dig at Ruiz by handing him his own handcuffs with a smile. He hadn’t even removed them when the agent had left. Peter frowned, then dug around for his handcuff key,

“Let’s get those off you.” Neal shook his head,

“It’s fine I can—“ But Peter was quicker, gently removing the cuffs with practiced ease. His jaw set as he saw the reason why Neal had wanted to take the cuffs off himself. The cuffs were professionally tightened but clearly they had been far too tight earlier and for much than a few minutes—perhaps only loosened right before Ruiz had pushed Neal through the double doors. There were deep indents in the CI’s delicate wrists, angry and red, the skin around them slightly inflamed and bruising just beginning to form. 

“Neal...” Peter’s voice was low and a look of steel came into his eyes, “I’m filing a report, that son of a—“ 

“No!” Neal cut him off, his tone strangely sharp. He lowered his voice, “I’m fine. It’s not a big deal.” His expression was still stony. 

“Not a big deal—Neal this is abuse.” Peter’s voice had gotten louder and he grabbed Neal’s shoulder to turn him back around. He couldn’t miss the way Neal’s shoulder tensed as he suppressed a flinch at the touch and the quiet but sharp intake of breath. Peter’s tone was deadly quiet now, “Shirt off. Now.” 

“No”

“Neal.” The tone was warning. Neal’s stony mask cracked slightly as the con man looked at the ground,

“I’m not stripping in the middle of the FBI.” The words could be taken as a challenge but Peter recognized them for the plea that they really were. His expression softened and he put his hand gently on Neal’s shoulder. 

“Alright. But you’re coming home with me, we’ll talk there.” 

****

Neal had genuinely been trying to help but Ruiz didn’t appreciate it, had chosen to believe that Neal was trying to mess up the whole operation and had locked him in the car with another agent, handcuffs brutally tight, with threats of what would happen if he removed them. The choice words that Neal had gifted the agent when he came back had been returned tenfold, with far more hurtful additions. 

Neal shoved them down as they echoed in his ears, the insinuations, the accusations, especially the words that Ruiz had ended with as they rode up to the 18th floor and the White Collar offices, “ you think your part of a team? You’re just a tool, a tool in agent Burke’s belt, a tool in my belt, a tool for any FBI agent to use. ” 

Ruiz was a jerk, and Neal knew better than to listen to his words, but they echoed still, fed by the thoughts Neal himself had had in some of his darker moments. 

He really didn’t want to talk about it with Peter, and a report against Ruiz would not work in his favor, Ruiz had made that clear. He was pathetically grateful as Peter relented in his grilling and directed him to the car. Peter’s hand was gently protective on Neal’s shoulder as he guided his CI out of the offices—a stark contrast to Ruiz’s handling and one that began to loosen the hard knot of anger and hurt that had formed in Neal’s chest earlier that day. 

***

Elizabeth was unsurprised as Neal followed Peter through the door, Peter had texted her before they left and she smiled warmly, kissing Peter quickly and helping Neal off with his coat. Neal, ever polite and also trying to avoid Peter, made himself busy trying to help with dinner but Peter was not to be put off. 

“Couch Caffrey, now.” His tone wasn’t harsh though it was determined and Neal sat a bit sulkily. Peter sat next to him, “Let me see your hands.” Neal recognized the futility of arguing and perhaps he didn’t really want to as he offered up his wrists, avoiding Peter’s eyes. 

Peter took his right hand and rolled up the sleeve. Neal saw the clench of his jaw as he examined the angry lines that had refused to fade, turning the hand over, running his thumb on the indentation, gently cataloguing the bruises and the way the metal had broken the skin as it rubbed against the delicate nob of bone. Laying down the right hand, he took the left and preformed the same examination. Finally he drew out his cell phone, holding up a finger at Neal’s sound of protest,

“I won’t file a report if you feel so strongly about it, but I  will have evidence available to give good reason for why Ruiz can’t have you again.” He snapped pictures methodically, his expression cold as he made sure to get the worst of the bruising clearly photographed. 

Neal sat silent, unmoving as Peter finally stood up and disappeared upstairs. He blinked a few times swallowing back the small lump that had formed in his throat as Peter had examined his injuries with almost tender care. Peter returned with a first aid kit and looked apologetically at Neal as he pulled out an alcohol wipe,

“This is going to sting, do you want to do it?” Neal shook his head,

“It’s fine.” He bit the inside of his lip as the alcohol cleaned the area, Peter’s face twisted up in sympathy, but he quickly finished up, placing a bit of gauze on the wrist and securing it. 

“That’s the best I can do for now. You’ll be bruised for a few weeks.” Neal nodded,

“Can we eat now?” He was eager to be finished with the examination but Peter just gave him a look, 

“Take your shirt off.” Peter’s expression was stern as Neal opened his mouth and Elizabeth interceded quickly,

“Neal sweetie, just let Peter take a quick look and then we can eat.” Neal sighed but acquiesced, unbuttoning his dress shirt and and shrugging it off with an uncharacteristic stiffness to his movements. He pulled his undershirt over his head as Peter gave another glare. 

Elizabeth sucked in a breath and Peter’s face hardened as Neal turned away from them, back bared. 

Livid bruises marred the young CI’s skin, splayed over his right shoulder in a clear shape—a hand. Four smaller imprints on his back, the blackness of a palm, and, as he turned back toward them, the dark imprint of the thumb near the collarbone. 

There was silence for a long moment, Neal avoiding both of their gazes and staring at the floor. Elizabeth turned silently after a moment and walked to the kitchen, the men could hear the freezer door open before she walked back with a frozen bag of peas and gently held it against the worst of the bruising. She laid her other hand on his left shoulder, her thumb rubbing in small circles. 

Neal looked up to meet Peter’s gaze, almost daring him to turn him into a victim, but was startled by the ice that was in the agent’s gaze. 

“I don’t think he meant to Peter, he didn’t realize how hard—“ Peter held up a hand, cutting him off, but still didn’t speak, scanning the injuries in the same way he picked apart a crime scene to remember it later. His eyes finally reached Neal’s and his expression perceptively softened at the almost pleading look. He reached over and relieved Elizabeth of the peas, pressing them gently to a different part of the bruising. 

“We should eat.” 

El took the hint and bustled to the kitchen. Neal pulled his undershirt back on and Peter tossed him a sweatshirt. They made their way to the table, Neal looking amusingly like a young college studentwith his hair mussed from removing and putting on his clothes and wrapped in Peter’s slightly-too-large sweatshirt, the sleeves partially covering his hands.

Neal would have had to be pretty unobservant to not notice the particularly large servings Elizabeth plied him with, but he wasn’t complaining as she heaped the delicious homemade food onto his plate, chatting lightly about her day at work but placing a gentle hand in his shoulder as she passed. Peter quietly handed him three ibprophen which he accept gratefully as they finished the meal, refusing to let him help with the dishes as he usually did but quickly finishing them himself before dragging Neal to the couch and turning on the TV. 

El joined them, sitting on Peter’s other side and making a grab for the remote which Peter pulled away. Neal grinned as the Burke’s scrabbled over the remote in good humor and realized with sudden warmth that the hard knot that hard begun forming as soon as Ruiz had walked into the office that morning had faded entirely under the care of his friends. 

He leaned back smiling and settled into the couch as Peter triumphantly held the remote high and changed the channel to a baseball game. Who cared about Ruiz when there were Burkes around? 


End file.
